


My Broken Friend

by WhiteCabaret



Category: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends
Genre: Gen, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:16:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6527131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteCabaret/pseuds/WhiteCabaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm kind of broken. Is that okay?"<br/>Original Publish Date: July 19, 2006</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Broken Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Normally, I’m not a fan of people inserting themselves into a fandom, but I broke my own rule with this one. “Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends” was and still is a very special cartoon to me. I am very introverted while struggling with social anxiety. “Foster’s” helped me cope with the fact that a close friend that you deeply depend on for companionship sometimes leaves you, but there is always a new friend waiting for you just around the corner. I wrote this short story after a betrayal from people I thought were my friends in my college freshman class.

"Welcome to Foster's!"

Frankie flung open the front doors after Mr. Herriman fussed at her for letting the doorbell ring all of two times. A brunette young woman stood on the porch, smiled at Frankie, and then absently pushed her glasses up on her nose as she stepped inside the large, old house. "Thank you. I heard that this place has imaginary friends up for adoption. I was wondering how I could get one."

Frankie rolled her eyes. "Mr. Herriman insists on a screening process, but I think you should look around until you find somebody you think you'll like. Once you've chosen a friend, you just sign a few papers and you're off!" she said, gesturing deeper into the house with a welcoming grin on her face.

"Great." The girl gave the hem of her red t-shirt a quick, nervous tug. She looked around the foyer from the tiled floor with its mulberry pink area rug to the grand staircase that split off in two directions. "So, do I follow you then or what?"

"Oh! Right, right." Frankie turned and started walking, leading the way towards one of the many living rooms on the lower floor. "I'll just give you a tour of the house and introduce you to the friends along the way." As they went, the girl kept her arms crossed over her chest and her shoulders hiked up with nervousness. Frankie decided to start up a new conversation and hopefully help the girl relax. "So what kind of friend are you looking for?"

The girl cracked her knuckles, pushing one finger at a time. It was something she did when thinking. "Something close to human," the she answered. "A boy would be nice, though. Friendly, cheerful, kind, patient, playful… y'know, that sort of thing. I go to college a few hours a day, so hopefully he’s okay being alone until I come home. I like playing video games and cooking, but if he could inspire me to get outside more that would be good too."

Frankie nodded. "Well, a lot our friends fit that description. I'm sure you won't have much trouble. Are you looking for a friend for a younger sibling or a little cousin maybe? Wait…" She froze and then turned around, looking the other young woman up and down. “Did you just say the friend is for you?”

The girl felt her heart pounding away in her chest while heat rose up in her face. "Um, yeah..."

Frankie shook her head with one eyebrow arching upward. "But, you must be eighteen or nineteen years old,” she insisted, gesturing at the girl, as if that was the only point to be made here.

The girl felt like running away. Getting out of the house to come here was difficult enough, but now she was in this strange house surrounded crowds of imaginary friends she never met before and she didn’t know what to say to any of them. That screening process started sounding like a good idea right about now. "Yeah, what about it?" she finally replied, standing her ground yet not making eye contact.

"Well, first of all, wouldn't you already have an imaginary friend from when you were a kid?" Frankie asked. She started feeling a tad awkward and it showed by how she now rubbed the back of her thin neck.

"I could never actually get them out of my head," the girl answered, watching a particularly hairy friend scuttle past them.

Frankie frowned. "Don't you have any real friends?"

"Listen, I'd rather not talk about it. All right? I came here to find a friend," she said, tone turning snappish. All these questions started making her uncomfortable and her automatic response was to get snippy. Not her strongest quality. The girl started walking towards an archway leading from the current room full of classic board games into the next room used for video games. "If you aren't going to help me find a friend, then I'm perfectly capable of doing it myse– Oof!" The girl collided with what she thought was a support pillar— one of many that decorated the expansive house— and she fell back on her rear. She rubbed her face and then fixed her glasses before looking to see what exactly she ran into.

A thin, red giant of a friend stood before her, undoubtedly reaching ten feet tall if not more. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry," said the giant. His voice, surprisingly mellow in tone yet also quick-paced, carried the distance down to the young woman on the floor.

She craned her neck to see the face of the friend. "Wow…" she whispered. He was pure red from head-to-toe wearing black and white sneakers, athletic socks, a wristband, and with a blue “1” on his chest. His cheeks frayed out in what looked like whiskers, though a couple appeared sewn on, as if reattached after an accident. His missing left arm had the same stitching. She also noticed one of his stalk-like eyes had a crushed quality.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Here, let me help." The tall friend reached down, grabbed her hand, and pulled her back to her feet. He smiled at the girl, but she only continued staring up at him. "Um, are you okay? I'm really sorry I bumped into you. I run into things sometimes," he said and gestured to his crooked, blind eye.

"It's all right," she finally answered. “It was just an accident. I should’ve watched where I was going, too.”

The imaginary friend smiled at her. It was the type of smile she imagined the Cheshire cat might have: big, wide, and with the whitest of teeth. "You sure you're okay?" he asked once more. It was obvious he carried something of a guilty conscience around with him, coupled with a big heart.

"Yeah, um…” She immediately crossed her arms over her chest when shyness started overwhelming her. She stood there silently for a moment or two, trying to find the courage to carry on the conversation. “My name is Sarah."

He laughed kindly. "My name is Wilt," he replied and reached down, shaking her hand. "So what brings you to Foster's, Sarah?"

All three of Wilt’s fingers felt warm to the touch. Sarah wasn’t sure if she expected them to feel different. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to expect. "I'm looking for a friend to adopt."

Wilt laughed again. "That's great. We have lots of friend here at Foster's.” He stood up straight and swept his arm in the direction of the next room. “Why don't I show you around and help you find a friend?"

Sarah’s arms uncrossed and she shoved her hands into her pockets. It was her best effort at creating a more open body language. "Actually,” she began, taking a half-step forward, “I want to adopt you, Wilt."

The tall imaginary friend fell silent, thinking quite hard. Ever since coming to Foster’s, he made it his mission to be a helper friend by going out and finding lost imaginary friends and then doing everything in his power to make sure they got adopted. Wilt never thought of himself as being adoption material, especially since ultimately failing his creator.

"I'm sorry, but you don't want me."

"Yes I do, Wilt.” Sarah’s voice shook, but she worked hard gathering up her confidence. One of her goals was asserting herself when she wanted something, but she struggled with the fine line between selfishly pushing and reasonably assertive. “You obviously care a lot about other people, even strangers like me. I haven’t felt cared about for a long time. Outside family, at least. I think you can fill that empty spot. Plus, you're really tall. I like that,” she added and mustered up a smile of her own.

Wilt seemed to consider all of this. It had been a long time since anyone offered to adopt him. When most kids saw his broken parts or learned he was more than thirty years old, they passed over him for someone sturdier. "Um, I'm kind of broken. Is that okay?"

"Sure it's okay," she answered while maintaining her smile. "I'm kind of broken too." She took hold of Wilt’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. "Is that okay?"

Wilt nodded and laughed. "That's okay, Sarah."


End file.
